He wanted to run, but the wind and lashing rain made the footing treacherous, and, unlike Fiona, he didn’t have four feet for stability.
If Signy had escaped the cottage, surely she would have headed to Skellig House and he’d have met her by now. His heart was hammering by the time he reached the path that angled down to Sea Cottage. Dear God, half the roof had caved in!
Fiona dashed down the path to the rear door, barking all the way. Ramsay followed, grateful for the railing Signy had installed. If he hadn’t had that to hold, he’d have pitched down the bluff into the roiling waters.
Grimly afraid of what he’d find, he opened the door to Signy’s home and found the broken chaos of Sea Cottage. Though there was barely enough light to see, he could make out water pouring through the shattered window. The cottage was flooded to nearly waist height, and the front right corner and side had collapsed, crushing the bedroom. If she hadn’t managed to get out before that . . . “Signy!Signy, are you here?”
Fiona was almost covered by the water, but she forged into what remained of the kitchen, still barking. Ramsay followed, terrified that he’d find Signy’s body in the wreckage.
Fiona rose and braced her front paws against . . . something, whimpering piteously. Ramsay closed the distance between him and the dog and reached out, trying to identify by touch. Cold, wet softness—a wash of hair over his hand as the water surged.
It was Signy, wedged between the table and the work counter. Her body was held partially upright, just enough that her head was barely above the rising water.
Not knowing if she was dead or alive, he wrenched the table away. It moved only a few inches, blocked by a fallen beam, but it was enough to release Signy’s body from where it was trapped.
He grabbed her as she slipped into the water. As soon as his grip was secure, he pivoted and waded to the back door. Fiona ran ahead, splashing in the water and yipping anxiously.
He held Signy’s limp body with his left arm while using his right hand to grasp the railing. He used it to haul them both up the path, praying it wouldn’t pull loose from the side of the bluff. An enormous wave crashed over them and almost dragged them both down into the waters, but he held on with every ounce of his strength until the wave retreated. Sliding his hand up the railing and moving only inches at a time, he continued their slow progress upward.
He was dizzy from the strain by the time he scrambled over the lip of the bluff onto the saturated turf. He laid Signy down and bent over her, his back blocking the worst of the wind and the rain. She was as cold and white as death. Fiona licked her face with a long frantic tongue, but there was no response.
“Signy,” he gasped hoarsely. “Signy, can you hear me?” He tried to find a pulse in her throat, but his fingers were too numb with cold to feel anything.
Remembering an incident when he’d witnessed a Greek fisherman revived after nearly drowning, he rolled her onto her side and pounded on her back with his open hand.
He was giving in to despair when she convulsed and began coughing up water. Dear God, she was alive,alive!
“Signy,” he said, pitching his voice above the wind. “Can you hear me?”
“Kai?” she said in a dazed voice.
“In person. Fiona came and found me.” He put an arm behind her and gently raised her to a sitting position.
She bent her head and had another fit of coughing before whispering, “My house?”
“Damaged,” he said tersely. “I don’t know how badly. We’ll find out tomorrow, but now I have to get you to Skellig House.”
She cried out as he tried to raise her to her feet. “My right leg!” she gasped. “I think it’s broken.”
He winced at the pain in her voice. He wished he could carry her all the way back to safety, but she was a tall, strong woman, not a featherweight. He wouldn’t be able to get her that far in the fierce winds and lashing rain.
“If I support you so your right foot doesn’t have to touch the ground, do you think you can make it back to Skellig House?”
“I don’t have much choice, do I? Help me up,” she said tartly.
He dragged off his oilskin coat and draped it over her shoulders. Then he slid an arm around her waist and lifted her from the right side.
Despite his best care, she cried out again but quickly swallowed the sound. He steadied her as she got her balance on her left foot. When she was steady, he said, “This is like a three-legged race. We’ll be home in no time.”
She muttered, “Bloody optimist!”
He almost laughed at the evidence that she was still Signy. “Feel free to swear as much as you want. You’re entitled.”
Slowly and with weaving steps, they made their way back, Fiona trotting ahead and looking worriedly over her shoulder. The trek seemed interminable.
By the time they reached the house, Fiona had reached the front steps and was barking to raise the dead. A dog worth her weight in gold.
The door swung open to reveal Mrs. Donovan, the housekeeper, with her husband beside her. The head groom moved forward just in time to get another arm around Signy’s waist and keep both the refugees of the storm from collapsing.
